


the difference between verdigris and the color of that heart

by vhscassette



Series: indigo love, together [3]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: 80's time period, M/M, Period Typical Homophobia, Pre-Dragon Ball Z, [american 80's perspective], post-dragon ball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 01:25:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16231313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vhscassette/pseuds/vhscassette
Summary: tien and yamcha live their lives in a quiet planet, rotating solely under whispers and rainstorms





	the difference between verdigris and the color of that heart

"I can't fuckin' believe you can play piano," Yamcha deadpanned, watching as Tien's fingers strolled through chords on the ebony keys. Tien was gentle, quiet as he played through improvisation, the keys softly singing. Chatter quietly mumbled to the smell of black coffee and cookies, and Yamcha couldn't help but blush.

 

This was probably the most domestic ass thing he had ever done with Tien.

 

Bulma had let Tien practice on her piano as she hadn't had much use out of it herself. "Whenever you want," she said, "just come on in and make yourself at home!" And, interestingly enough, Tien was intrigued. He wasn't obviously one to have had the time to necessarily _play_ the instruments in his youth; now, though, he could freely express himself in ways that weren't entirely violence. Also, he now could use four hands. That definitely could help.

 

His newfound skill lead Bulma inviting him and Yamcha to perform at various small-time parties at Capsule Corps, much to Tien's bashful surprise.

 

Tien glanced at him, smirking wordlessly as his third eye still focused on the keys. Yamcha's blush rose, huffing as he looked away.

 

"What, you think I'm jealous or something?" Yamcha huffed quietly, less in genuine annoyance and more in tenderness. Tien chuckled and shook his head, scooting over.

 

"Take a seat, bandit. Keep me company," Tien smiled, pressing softly on the keys and motioning for Yamcha to sit. Yamcha bit the inside of his cheek, wishing he could hold Tien the whole night through. He slid onto the short seat, Tien's maroon sweater warm against Yamcha's dark gray one.

 

Yamcha reached into his pocket, taking out a shortbread cookie he stole from the sweets table and nibbling it as Tien played a particularly intricate melody. With utter confidence, he'd bet twenty million bucks that Tien would've turned out to be musically inclined in another life. But, in another life, they might've never met.

 

Yamcha frowned. A world without Tien..?

 

"What's the matter?" Tien murmured, almost hushed in the quiet atmosphere of the dinner party. Yamcha suddenly felt real damn quiet about admitting this.

 

Munch. "I'm good."

 

"No, you're not," Tien said, voice gentle.

 

Munch munch. "Maybe _you_ aren't good. What's the matter with _you?_ "

 

"I asked you first."

 

Munchy munch. "I asked you second."

 

"I swear to god."

 

Yamcha giggled, Tien following with warm chuckles as his music continued. "I just.. well.. thought about us if we never, y'know, met each other," he finally admitted, twiddling his fingers with an almost fond sort of mumble.

 

Tien glanced at him, third eye on the keys.

 

Yamcha sighed, still twiddling his fingers almost nervously. "I.. I'm really glad we.. became friends, y'know?" he continued, smiling at Tien thoughtfully. Tien reddened, pausing his playing to cough into his elbow suddenly.

 

"I'm," Tien said, recovering, ".. I'm.. very thankful for our friendship together as well."

 

Yamcha smiled, wishing he could kiss him on the cheek but knowing he couldn't. Maybe later at home. "You look good tonight. Didn't know red suited you so well," Yamcha said quietly, watching as Tien began playing a Christmas song. Tien's face slowly mottled with a slight red.

 

Tien's lips pursed, thinking over his words as his third eye closed. "I could say the same," he said with a shy grin, voice a rumble amidst the quiet sounds of conversations and clinking glasses. Yamcha smiled. He really needed to invest in a piano one of these days.

 

* * *

 

Tien was curled up on the sofa when Yamcha came home from buying groceries one day. He could feel the sadness, the anguish that Tien felt all the way from their small kitchen. Night had fallen, a gentle rain with it, and Yamcha found himself slipping off his wet boots in a restrained hurry.

 

"Tien, what's the matter..?" Yamcha said, eyes not leaving Tien's figure as he put the groceries on the counter and quick-walked to his side. He kneeled against the sofa, gently leaning in to see Tien's face.

 

All three of his eyes were crying, but Tien didn't say a word. His frown just deepened, his eyes and expression crumpling as if to hide his sadness.

 

"Today was the day that Mommy and Dad died," Tien said, voice cracking as he visibly tried not to sob. Yamcha's heart fell to his feet.

 

"Oh.. Oh, honey, come here," Yamcha said, heartbroken as he moved to hold him. Tien didn't hug him back. Yamcha tried to soften the sobs that broke out from Tien's gritted teeth, gently rubbing his back and shushing him as lightly as he could.

 

"Yamcha?" Tien weeped, voice heaving as he audibly tried to stop but failed.

 

"Yes?" Yamcha said quietly, pulling away to cup his cheek and wipe away the tears that continued to roll down his cheeks. Tien caught his glance and, almost as if devastated, began crying harder. He clutched Yamcha's hand on his cheek, squeezing it almost painfully hard as if it would disappear.

 

"It's not that they died. Mommy and Dad wouldn't like me, Yamcha," he sobbed. Yamcha's eyes widened.

 

".. What..? Why?" Yamcha said, concerned as he squeezed Tien's hand. He used his other hand to hold his shoulder firmly, trying to physically hold Tien together. Tien, eyes shiny and glazed in the dark, looked at Yamcha in a deep-set sorrow.

 

"I've murdered people. Murdered, injured, destroyed, _everything_. If me liking men wasn't enough for them, then this would be it," Tien whimpered before curling into a tighter ball, still weakly holding Yamcha's hand as he pulled it away from his cheek. "I deserve _nothing._ "

 

Yamcha was utterly heartbroken.

 

He stood up, Tien freezing as he looked up at Yamcha in a stare that begged him not to leave. Yamcha smiled sadly before picking him up, holding him tight as he moved him to his bedroom. He laid him gently on the bed, lovingly stroking a cheek before moving to the opposite side of the bed and crawling in with him.

 

Tien was in an odd state of surprise, the feeling numbed by his loss but still visible on his expression. Yamcha could only gaze at him as the rain pattered against their apartment. Lightning flickered before a low rumble ran through their bedroom.

 

Even though Tien had stopped crying for the most part, Yamcha found himself gently wiping a tear that had shed from his third eye. Tien frowned tearily, rolling onto his side to face Yamcha. His eyes were red and puffy, and he couldn't stop himself from giggling hoarsely.

 

"I sound stupid, don't I?" Tien said weakly, lips turning up in the faintest smile manageable. Yamcha could only smirk, shaking his head.

 

"No, Tien, you don't," Yamcha said gently, rolling to face him and wrapping an arm around him. Tien closed his eyes and leaned in himself, pulling Yamcha close and burying his head in his chest. Yamcha stroked his back.

 

"I'm right here, sweetheart," Yamcha mumbled, lightly pressing kisses to the top of Tien's head. It was all he could possibly do; when faced with the regret of loss, what more could have been done? Tien _never_ talked about his parents. There might not have even been much _to_ talk about, but it was very possible he had some parent-issues that he was forced to hide away when Shen came into the picture.

 

Tien was truly, _truly_ alone.

 

Yamcha found a tear threatening to roll down the side of his face.

 

"I wish they wouldn't have died back then," Tien said quietly into Yamcha's collarbone, his regret seeping into his words like verdigris on copper.

 

Yamcha couldn't say anything as he felt the regret through his own heart. They really _were_ on their own, from their childhood onwards. _Would_ their parents have been any good to them? Would they beat their 'faggots for kids' or protect them with hearts of cinnamon-sugar? Hell, Yamcha had often wondered the same thing himself, but.. he never exchanged his parents for an infinite evil like Tien was forced to. His heart panged.

 

"I know, honey. I know. I love you."

 

"I love you too, Yamcha."


End file.
